


Picture Perfect (Broken Frame)

by Gypsywriter135



Series: And All The King's men [2]
Category: Ghost - Mystery Skulls (Music Video), Mystery Skulls (Band)
Genre: Gen, Lifetime Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 14:59:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3072323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gypsywriter135/pseuds/Gypsywriter135
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance Kingsmen from start to finish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picture Perfect (Broken Frame)

**Author's Note:**

> I WAS ABLE TO FINISH THE FIRST CHAPTER (which turned out longer than I anticipated) BEFORE THE NEW YEAR. SO LET'S END THIS YEAR AND START OFF THE NEW ONE ON A HIGH NOTE
> 
> Not beta'd or proof read.

Lance Kingsmen was seven when he saw his first ghost. 

They were at his grandparent’s house, the grown ups sitting and talking and drinking wine in the living room while the kids were left to their own devices. He and his older brother were playing Hide N’ Seek and Tristan was the seeker; Lance could hear him counting down from fifty from the bedroom.

He giggled, inching behind Grandma’s old chest in the corner, clamping his hands over his mouth. He peeked up over the top of the chest, listening as his brother reached zero and sent out the warning cry.

Lance tucked his head down, curling into a ball and trying not to laugh as he heard Tristan stomping around. He’d never find him here!

He wriggled, something digging into his back, and tried to get more comfortable. He could hear Tristan rummaging in the next room over. He had to win; Tristan was better at hiding and Lance just wanted to win one game.

He’d do it. He’d win for sure with this hiding spot. If only the thing on the floor would stop poking him.

Frowning, Lance sat up, shifting to see what was so insistent on causing him distress and paused when he saw a small knob screwed into the wooden floorboards. Looking closer, he could see the faint outline of a door, barely noticeable if he hadn’t been looking at it. He stared at it, blinking, and reached out to see if the handle turned.

It did.

Excitement filled him and he grinned, ducking down when he heard Tristan walk by. He waited a few seconds before cautiously looking over the chest again and when he saw no sign of his brother, quickly moved so that he could pull open the door.

It was slightly squeaky and Lance winced, chancing another look from his hiding place. He waited a few seconds and when Tristan didn’t appear, he opened it the rest of the way, wrinkling his nose at the dust that flew up around him.

Quietly, he let the hatch all the way open, resting against the back of the chest, and he looked down at the ladder that led into darkness.

Lance nearly jumped at the prospect of a secret passage and adventure.

Luckily, he had the small keychain flashlight that he carried with him at all times, and dug it out of his overalls, clicking the button on the end. The little light turned on and he shone it down the passage.

The flashlight barely reached the fifth rung of the ladder.

Lance considered his options as he looked down; he could either stay here and wait for Tristan to find him, or he could go exploring.

Grinning to himself, he put the flashlight in between his feet and, with one final glance over the chest, put his foot on the first step and began to climb down.

It wasn’t too far. Lance counted nine steps before he reached solid ground again. He looked up at the square of light above him and saw nothing but his grandparent’s ceiling tiles.

He took his flashlight back in hand and spun around, trying to make things out in the small light.

The room was no bigger than a closet, but crammed with things covered in dust. Old chairs and a table, one leg missing so that it leaned awkwardly against the wall. Blankets stiff from disuse, an old rug rolled up in the corner. There was even a chess board, the pieces knocked down and covered in spider webs.

But what really caught his eye was the huge sword on the floor.

Lance’s eyes lit up and he, carefully, made his way over to it, trying not to make too much dust as he went. He stood over it, shining the light over the dusty, crusty surface. It must have been decades since it had been left behind, any shine completely gone from the lackluster surface. The handle was simple, not the extravagant kind like his Pop told him of the ones in England. 

He reached out to grab it, when someone spoke.

“I wouldn’t touch that.”

Lance whipped around, clutching his flashlight close to himself, expecting Tristan to be standing behind him.

Instead, he was met with a too pale man, tight curls peppering his head and a soft pink heart floating where his heart should have been. He was wearing pants that were too short and overalls just like Lance, what looked like a scratchy jacket over his loose white shirt.

Lance blinked. “Who are you?”

The man cocked his head. “My name’s Elijah.”

“Elijah,” Lance repeated, frowning when it didn’t sound the same as the man’s funny way of talking. He shoved it away for later. “Do you live here?”

Elijah shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” Lance asked. “How can you only live here sometimes?”

The man shrugged again. “Sometimes I live in the attic.”

Lance formed a small “o” with his mouth. “I’m not allowed in the attic.”

“I don’t think you’re allowed here, either,” Elijah smiled. 

The boy felt a small rush of sheepishness creep up on him and he glanced to the floor, tracing a pattern in the dust with his shoe. “I just wanted to go exploring. Like The Mystery Inc. people!” 

“I don’t think I know what that is,” Elijah said.

Lance’s eyes widened. “Oh, it’s so cool! There’s this group of friends and they have a talking dog named Scooby Doo and they ride around in an old van and solve ghost mysteries all the time! They do lot’s of exploring in creepy dark places, just like this!”

Elijah hummed. “That’s interesting.”

Lance nodded excitedly. “Daddy says that I’m too small to do that. But he’ll see,” he puffed out his tiny chest, “I’m gonna grow up to be just as big and strong as he is-no, bigger!” He spread his arms out as far as they would go, grinning. The smile dropped when the flashlight fell from his hand.

It hit the ground with a clatter and Elijah stared at it. Lance stared at it, and the light flickered for a long moment before going out completely. He was encased in darkness, the only light coming from Elijah’s heart and the square above where the ladder retreated back to a world full of sun and life.

But Lance was nothing if not a constantly curious child, and the black did not deter him. His eyes were instead focused on Elijah’s heart, which pulsed softly and made the man’s pale face impossibly paler. Lance pointed to it.

“What’s that?” 

Elijah looked down, hand coming up to gently cradle the heart, before answering. “’Tis my heart.”

“Well, duh,” Lance pulled a face. “I _know_ that.” He rolled his eyes with all the attitude a seven year old possessed. “I mean why’s your heart on the outside and not the inside?”

Elijah looked sad, all of a sudden. Lance frowned, feeling guilty. He hadn’t meant to make the man sad; he was just wondering.

“I mean, you don’t hafta tell me,” Lance muttered. “I was just askin’.”

“No, child,” Elijah smiled softly. “You are quite alright. I wear my heart because the one I gave it to is no more.”

Lance had absolutely no idea what that meant. “Where are they?” he asked.

Elijah looked up, and Lance followed his gaze. There was no sign of someone on the small ceiling, and Lance didn’t think that there’d be enough room anyways.

“She is in a better place,” the man sighed. 

“Then hows come you don’t just go with her?” Lance said in all his infinite child wisdom. “That’s what Mommy and Daddy do. They go everywhere with each other, ‘cept work. Mommy doesn’t go to work.”

Elijah smiled at him. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way.”

“Why not?” 

“You’ll understand some day,” Elijah told him. “But for now, I think your brother is becoming angry that he cannot find you.” 

Lance’s face twisted at the thought of Tristan. He didn’t want to go back up there; Tristan would just get annoyed that he hadn’t found Lance and then he’d stop playing and Lance would be bored while the adults talked. 

Besides, he liked Elijah. Even if he did look and talk funny.

But he could hear Tristan calling his name, and he knew that if he didn’t emerge soon, then their parents would come looking, and Lance didn’t fancy sharing his find with them. 

He sighed, shoulder’s drooping, and bent to pick up his flashlight. He clicked it a few times, frowning when it didn’t work; he’d have to get a new one now.

When he looked up, Elijah was gone. 

“Elijah?”

There was no answer.

“Elijah, where’d you go?” Lance looked around, wondering where the man could have hidden so quickly. But there was no sign of him. 

“Lance!”

And there was Tristan.

Lance pouted, but made his way to the ladder, carefully climbing up the rungs. He reached the top quickly and hauled himself out, carefully and quietly shutting the trapdoor behind him.

He scrambled over the chest and to his feet right as Tristan came through the door.

His older brother scowled at him. “Where have you been? I called ‘Olli olli oxen free’ forever ago.” 

Lance stared blankly at the older boy, trying to come up with a good lie. His father had told him never to lie, but Lance just didn’t want to show Tristan his new hiding place.

“Oh my God, you look dumb when you do that,” Tristan sneered. He reached out and flicked Lance on the forehead and the smaller boy stumbled backwards. He tripped over his own feet and fell to his bottom, tears springing to his eyes.

“You’re not allowed to push me,” he sniffled.

“Aw, wittle baby gonna cry,” Tristan teased. “Bet you cried when I couldn’t find you.”

“Did not!” Lance whined.

Tristan stomped closer. “You know you can’t find a hiding place that good, you cheated.”

Snot dripped from his nose and Lance wiped at it angrily. “I did not cheat! Maybe you just suck!”

In a flash, Tristan reached down and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, hauling him close his face. Lance cried out, gripping his brother’s wrist and trying to dislodge himself. 

“You’re a dirty little cheater,” Tristan sneered. “You’re going to cheat on everything and then no one will like you.”

“Mommy said you’re not allowed to say mean things!” Lance cried. He tugged on Tristan’s fingers. “Let me go!”

“Boys!”

Tristan released his hold on Lance seconds before their mother appeared in the hallway. She looked down at them, hands on her hips and a frown on her face. 

“What is going on here?” she asked. Lance saw her eyes travel over Tristan quickly before landing on him, holding himself up on his elbows from where he landed painfully on the floor.

“Nothing, mother,” Tristan said sweetly. He looked over his shoulder at Lance and sent him a warning glare. “I was just playing Hide N’ Seek with Lance and he got startled when I found him, fell down.”

Lance sniffled, and his mother’s face fell. She clucked her tongue and strode forward, bending down to scoop him up. Lance clung to her, burying his face in her shoulder.

“Oh, baby,” she cooed, running a hand up and down his back soothingly. “You’re okay. Just a little fall.”

The boy looked up, casting his eyes to Tristan. His brother glowered at him and Lance quickly hid into his mother’s shoulder again.

“I think we better sit for a little, boys,” she said, walking out the room. “Come on, Tristan, your grandfather might even tell you that story if you ask nicely.”

Lance could hear his brother trail after them. “I don’t want to,” the older boy sniffed. “Grandfather always tells the same boring stories.”

“Oh, they’re not boring,” the Elaine replied. She gently tickled Lance under his ribs and he giggled slightly. “And besides, you like ‘em, don’t you Little Lance?”

Lance squirmed in her arms, smiling and tittering as he tried to get away from her long and dexterous fingers. She grinned at him and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

“That’s because Lance is a baby, and Grandfather’s tales are for babies,” Tristan told her snobbishly.

Elaine turned and sent her eldest son a hot look. “Tristan. What have your father and I told you about that kind of talk.”

Without even looking a small bit remorseful, Tristan apologized. “Sorry.”

Frowning, Elaine gently juggled Lance in her arms and continued down the hall, heading to the steps. Tristan made a face at him as they descended and Lance stuck out his tongue, gripping more tightly to his mother.

They reached the first floor and Tristan went past them, heading out to the back porch where their aunts and uncles were. Sitting on the couches in the living room was the remainder of Lance’s family, his grandparents and father among them. His grandmother smiled when she saw them.

“Ah, there’s my little knight,” Anna said, her grey curly hair framing her petite face.

Constantine looked up when his wife entered and gave her a sharp look.

“Everything okay?” he asked, jerking his head in Tristan’s direction.

“For now,” she told him, settling next to her father-in-law. She rearranged Lance on her lap. “They were fighting.”

“Of course they were,” the man sighed. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Ah, just leave it, son,” Madoc said, leaning forward to grin at his grandson, accent heavy. “There’s no getting through to that boy.”

Constantine sighed, slumping back in his seat. “I don’t know where we went wrong. Lance is fine.” 

“Ah, that’s because he’s got that ole’ Kingsmen charm!” Anna said, getting up to kiss Lance’s hair, tickling his sides. He laughed, grinning up at her.

“I’m the bestest Kingsmen there is, right?” he asked. 

Madoc tapped his nose. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. You’re the second best, my lad.”

Lance scowled, wrinkling his nose. That was ridiculous, he was obviously the best; the baby of the family.

“You know who the best Kingsmen is, right, honey?” Elaine asked.

He turned to her, eyes huge, as he wracked his brain. He shook his head. 

“Ah, that’d be Arthur,” his grandfather said. Lance whipped his head around to look at him. “You remember King Arthur, yes?”

“Yeah!” Lance exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air and nearly smacking his mother in the face. Amused chuckled followed his enthusiasm. “He’s the king!”

Madoc laughed. “Right you are!”

“Maybe,” Constantine whispered loudly, moving to sit on the other side of his wife. He threw an arm around her shoulders and drew her close to him, looking around at his son. “If you ask nicely, Pappy will tell you one of his stories about King Arthur.”

Excited at the prospect of hearing one of his grandfather’s extremely entertaining and elaborate tales, Lance turned back to the elder man. He crawled from his mother’s lap and into Madoc’s, clutching at the man’s suit jacket. 

“Oh, please, Pappy!” he begged. “I wanna hear the story! Please, please, please?” 

Madoc laughed heartily, throwing his head back and his large belly jiggling something fierce. Lance startled for a moment, then laughed when the gut shook him as well.

“Well, laddie,” the old man said, grinning when he looked down at Lance. “How can I say no when you ask so politely?”

Lance smiled happily, making himself comfy on his grandfather’s knee. “Can you tell one about the knights? I like the knights!”

“You’re named after a knight,” Constantine piped up. “Sir Lancelot of the Round Table.”

“Oi,” Madoc said, a fond scowl on his face as he looked at his own son. “Are you tellin’ the story, or am I?”

Constantine held up a hand in surrender, a smirk on his face. Madoc shook his head and, one hand steadying Lance on his leg, tapped the other against his chin. “Hmm… let’s see… do I tell ya’ the one with the dragon or the Lady of the Lake?” 

Lance’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Oh! The dragon! I wanna hear about the dragon! Please, Pappy, the dragon!” He clutched tightly to the man’s shirt. “Please!”

“Well, alright,” the old man said, a twinkle in his own eyes. “Are you sure you’re ready for this.” 

Nodding enthusiastically, Lance sat back.

“Alrighty then. So, long ago, in a land of myth and a time of legend… there lived a dragon. A large dragon, of incredible size and strength, sat atop a huge mountain and destroyed villages and put fear into the hearts of men. All were terrified of the beast; except, of course, for a certain king and his loyal and brave knights…”

* * *

“…And _that_ is how Lancelot and Arthur defeated the dragon and saved the kingdom.”

Lance stared up, wide-eyed, at his grandfather. Madoc smiled down at him, yellowing teeth crooked through his thin lips.

“Another!” Lance cried, reaching up to squish Madoc’s cheeks happily. “Another, Pappy!”

“Uh, uh,” Constantine shook his head, stretching a bit before standing. “Nope, sorry little knight, but we’ve got to go home.”

“Aw,” Lance groaned, slumping. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I wanted to hear more…”

Madoc ruffled his hair and gently deposited him down on the floor. “Now, there, lad, I’ve got plenty more where those came from. You come back, I’ll tell you another.” 

Sighing, Lance nodded. Elaine clapped a hand on his shoulder and handed him his coat. “Alright, go say goodbye to everyone while I get your brother.”

Lance nodded, slipping his arms into the sleeves and zipping up the coat. He turned to his grandfather and reached up for a hug; the man obliged. “You stay good now, you hear?”

“Yes, Pappy,” Lance said, breaking away from the hug. He turned instead to his grandmother, who crouched for her own hug. “Bye, Nana.” 

“Oh, goodbye my sweet little knight,” she pressed a kiss to his temple and then held him out at arms length. “You come visit again soon, baby.” Inconspicuously, she pressed a handful of candies into his hand, pressing a finger against her lips, eyes sparkling.

Lance did the same, stuffing the treats into his pocket, when he spotted a shimmer of grey and a flash of pink over her shoulder.

As he watched, Elijah materialized behind her, giving him a soft wave.

Lighting up, Lance waved back. “Bye, Elijah!”

That was when all the hustle in the room stopped, all eyes snapping to him. Lance frowned, unsure of what happened, and shuffled closer to his grandmother.

“What did you just say?” Constantine asked, eyes wide. 

Lance fidgeted on his feet, looking with wide eyes at where Elijah had just been moments ago. He pointed. “Elijah. He’s my friend.”

Turning him around, Anna looked seriously at him, hands on either of his shoulders. “Lance, sweet child. Where did you hear that name?” 

“Elijah told me,” Lance said, remembering his parent’s rules about lying and how it was bad. “I met him when I was playing with Tristan earlier, he’s really nice.”

Everyone stared at him. Lance bit his lip, unsure. 

“He has the gift.” 

Heads whirled towards Madoc, who was gazing at Lance with a thoughtful look on his face.

“Lance,” Constantine asked, coming to kneel before him. Lance looked at his father. “Lance, what does Elijah look like? Please remember, son, this is extremely important.”

“He’s really pale,” Lance said softly, looking down at his shoe. “And he dresses and talks funny. And he has a pink heart outside of his body, but that’s not right because Dennis Kale says that hearts are on the inside.”

Silence descended, thick and heavy, until Madoc laughed. A loud, booming laugh that echoed through the room and brought everyone’s sole attention to him. He laughed and he laughed and he laughed until Lance saw him brush a tear from his eye, which confused him, because crying meant sadness, but Pappy didn’t seem sad.

“Oh, that’s a good lad,” Madoc said once he composed himself. He pointed a finger at Constantine. “You keep a close eye on that one, you hear? Gonna be a magnet, I’m telling you.”

“This is impossible,” Lance heard his father mutter. “No one this young has ever seen them before.” 

“Daddy…” Lance whispered, bordering on whining.

Constantine shook his head, turning back to his son. He gave a strained smile. “Sorry, bud. Just… you startled us, is all, no need for worry.” He reached out for Lance’s hand. “We’ll talk more later, okay?”

Cautiously, Lance nodded and took his father’s hand. Constantine stood, grip gentle yet tight around Lance’s own.

“You go get Tristan,” he said to a pale Elaine. “We’ll wait in the car.”

Elaine nodded and hurried to the porch, leaving the heavy silence behind. Constantine turned to Madoc.

“I’ll call you later, Pop.”

“You will,” Madoc agreed, nodding once. 

“Bye, Ma’.” 

Anna stood and wrapped her arms around Constantine quickly, murmuring something in his ear. Constantine nodded once. 

Lance was nervous, but relaxed some when he caught Madoc’s eyes and the old man winked at him.

“Come on, Lance,” Constantine tugged softly on the boys hand, and they headed to the door.

He turned before they left, waving. “Bye.”

“Goodbye, lad,” Madoc waved.

Behind him, Elijah waved too.

Constantine took him to the old car in the street, opening the door and allowing Lance to climb in.

He stopped halfway in and turned to look at his father.

“Daddy, did I say something bad?” he asked, worried. He didn’t think he did.

“No, son,” Constantine replied.

“Did I do something wrong?” 

Sighing, Constantine ran a hand over his face. “No, Lance. You were great today.”

“Oh…" 

He paused. “Then why’s everyone being weird?”

Tapping him lightly on the rear to get him moving again, Constantine encouraged Lance into the backseat. He leaned in as he buckled the boy back up.

“Lance,” the man sighed. “You are the sweetest little knight I know, and the most well behaved one. But there are some things that you just aren’t ready for yet.”

Lance stared at him, utterly confused. His father let out another sigh.                                                                                           

“Just maybe keep it to yourself whenever you see the people with the hearts on the outside, yeah?”

Tristan and Elaine appeared at the porch steps, making their way to the car.

“How come?” Lance asked, confused.

“We’ll talk about it when you’re older.”

With an act of finality, Constantine shut the car door.

Lance huffed.

He hated when grown ups said that.

**Author's Note:**

> THE NAMES, MAN
> 
> I HAD SO MUCH FUN WITH THE NAMESSS
> 
> Also, writing children is haaaaarddddd. I headcanon Lance as being born around 1969 or 1970, making him about 45ish in present times (if we're going with the new year)


End file.
